


Motorbike

by Ponddipper



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Accidents, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, JamJez, M/M, MayClark, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponddipper/pseuds/Ponddipper
Summary: The nurse had told him what to expect but he refused to believe it until he had seen with his own eyes.
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/James May
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21





	Motorbike

**Author's Note:**

> Hello *waves shyly*  
> So, this is my first work in this fandom. It's not beta'd and probably has more errors than a Daily Mail report but I wanted to put it out there for some feedback. I was going to wait until Monday, Blue Monday apparently, to make you all smile but then I thought Nah, let's rip the bandage off quickly and be brave.
> 
> I'd love some feedback on this - let me know if you think it works, if you think it's too long, too short, etc. Also, how believable the storyline is. Having read so many really good works here (literally in the last three weeks) I don;t want to darken your fandom with inferior work.
> 
> I have been ambitious but please let me know if it was rubbish.  
> Pd

James entered the dimly lit hospital room slowly, his heart thudding hard against his ribs at the sight before him. The nurse had told him what to expect but he refused to believe it until he had seen with his own eyes.

Jeremy was upright at least, the tight band in James’ chest easing slightly for the first time since the accident. The man’s closed eyes were turning black, his face puffy but not overly swollen. The shallow, even breaths suggested he was asleep while a drip flowed silently into the back of his hand.

James settled into the hard plastic chair by the bedside, resting his elbows on his knees, clasped hands against his forehead, fighting the instinct to reach out and touch. They were mates, yes, close ones, but that was as far as it went. Jeremy wasn’t like him, didn’t feel the way James did.

‘You know,’ He sighed, voice pitched low so as not to wake the older man. ‘You’re a bit too old to play Evel Knievel Jezza. Between you and Hammond I’m gonna go grey!’

A shuffling from the bed along with a sharp inhale had James’ head snapping up. Jeremy turned to face him slowly, looking tired and licking a thick pink tongue across his dry lips.

‘Bit late for that.’ Jeremy nodded towards James’ shoulder-length locks and smiled, setting off a flutter of butterflies in James’ insides. Just like always. ‘Though I’m sure Hamster could spare you some dye, if you’re worried.’

Both men laughed, loosing quiet chuckles as their eyes met at last. 

‘How are you, Jezza?’ 

*****

They’d been at the track, Jeremy, Richard, and James, cocking about on the pocket bike James was due to film with the following day. It was, physically, quite a small machine but surprisingly speedy and good fun once you got used to being so near the ground. As often happened when the three of them got their hands on a new toy, their innate competitiveness took hold and they decided to see who was fastest around an improvised circuit.

For once, James was in the lead, mostly by virtue of having gone first. Well, it _was_ his bike to test after all, but soon enough, Jeremy wheedled and whined for a go and James gave in, unable to resist the older man’s silly attempts at a puppy dog face. Mostly it looked like he was trying to swallow a goldfish.

‘You look like a clown, Clarkson!’ James had jeered over the radio in their helmets, laughing as Jeremy attempted to fold his six-foot-five frame onto the thirty-inch bike.

‘Or one of the PG Chimps!’ Richard giggled coming to stand by James’ side.

Jeremy ignored them, wobbling along for a few minutes until he found his balance, then roaring away, across the airfield.

‘ _Powww-eeerrrrr_!’ He squealed, the man’s glee echoing infectiously across the airwaves and forcing James into a smile.

Silly sod.

Richard whipped his phone out to film the ape’s antics while James followed the bike with his helmet cam, biting his lip when Jeremy pulled a pathetically small wheely.

‘Careful Jezza!’ He yelled, stomach twisting as the bike wobbled when he landed. ‘I’ve got to ride that tomorrow!’

All they needed was the great oaf to do his back in again. Andy would go ballistic. 

Ever since their challenge through Vietnam, Jeremy had been less derisive of two-wheeled transport. He still refused flat out to ride on the public road (‘’ _Too many idiots like me out there to be safe, May.’’_ ), but he wasn’t averse to a few laps of the track. James had even managed to drag him to a bike show in Birmingham without too much complaint.

It was where Jeremy had bought him the helmet cam kit.

‘If you must insist on riding that death trap of yours in public’, Jeremy had said, handing over the top of the range kit. ‘At least I’ll be able to track down and kill the bastard that eventually knocks you off and you die.’

James had called him a pillock at the time, but had been touched by the gesture, very aware of the fact Jeremy couldn’t quite meet his eye for the rest of the day.

He was even more grateful for that camera now, however. The footage downloaded automatically to his phone, allowing James to watch it over and over as he sat for hours in the waiting room, trying to pick out the moment everything went wrong. One minute Jeremy had been haring along, laughing like the overgrown schoolboy he was, approaching the little ramp they’d rigged up, the next he was sailing through the air.

It wasn’t a high ramp, barely 2 feet at most, but as Jeremy reached the end of it the bike seemed to tip and, instead of taking a graceful leap, Jeremy pitched forward, over the handlebars and into the air.

He landed, _hard_. Flat on his back, legs folding underneath him, like bent straw. His crash helmet smacked against the concrete with a sickening crack, almost drowning out the ‘Oof!’ as all the air was forced from his lungs at once.

James ran. Ran so fast his legs burned and his stomach protested the cheese sandwich he’d had at lunch. Richard must have called the ambulance because James remembers his sole focus being getting to Jeremy’s side.

Once there, his sandwich made another attempt to reappear – the awkward tangle of Jeremy’s legs and the fact he hadn’t even tried to move forcing James to swallow back bile several times.

‘Don’t move, Jezza.’ James said, flipping up his visor to see an almost grey face staring back at him. ‘Just stay still, okay? Help’s coming, you just have to stay still till they get here, alright?’

That help ended up being an air ambulance and at least three paramedics, plus several strong members of the crew who helped carry the stretcher onto the helicopter, Jeremy too quiet and far too still on board.

James can still feel the choking sensation as they disappeared out of sight beyond the trees. And the prayer he sent up that Jeremy be okay. 

*****

James leant forward in the chair, both hands clasped against the bed rail that separated him from the older man, fingers itching again to reach out and touch.

‘So, what did the Drs say?’

Jeremy sighed, shifting fully onto his left side facing James, grunting as he sought a more comfortable position against the stack of pillows.

‘Bruised from arse to shoulder, a mild concussion and a broken leg. Aches like hell, but I’ll survive.’

‘Just so long as you do.’ James sniffed, biting at his bottom lip to overwhelm the relieved smile threatening to split across his face. ‘I really can’t be arsed to audition a replacement.’

Jeremy cracked a half-smile, James’ eyes burning with unshed tears. He could feel his hold over his emotions slipping with every breath. It was alright to laugh, to make a joke but things could so easily have been much, much worse. A few millimetres difference either way and they might not be talking now. He could have landed on his head, snapped his neck or been _under_ the bike, even caught up in it. 

He might have lost Jeremy today and, as much as they all joked about just carrying on, James knew without doubt that he wouldn’t be able to bear such a loss. They may be colleagues, _friends_ , but long-ago James accepted that this man meant more to him than almost anyone else in his life. He wasn’t handsome, not conventionally at least, and he wasn’t one to avoid controversy to keep the peace. But that was one of the things James liked about him. You knew what you were getting when you were with Jeremy Clarkson. He was loud, boorish and had an opinion on everything, but he could be kind and generous and even somewhat charming when he wanted to be. He had made James’ life better, just by being in it and if he _had_ died today the hole left behind would be more than big enough to swallow James in one.

It was only when Jeremy reached over and took his hand, that James realised he’d begun shaking. The warm contact made him jump but the look of concern in those pale blue eyes released a rush of blood to James’ cheeks and he hung his head, hiding behind a curtain of hair, unwilling to let Jeremy see how messed up he was. Shit, he should be the one giving comfort and support, not the other way round. What was wrong with him?

‘It’s okay, James.’ Jeremy said, voice soft, his thumb rubbing gently across the back of James’ hand. ‘I’m gonna be okay.’

He could be a bloody perceptive bastard too.

They sat in silence for some time, Jeremy stroking James’ hand, James trying desperately to calm himself down enough to look back up at the other man. He knew it was probably just delayed shock, but he hated being so weak in front of Jeremy.

Jeremy grunted, hand clenching tight for a second before relaxing again and James looked up to see the trace of pain around his eyes.

‘Jez...’

‘No!’ Jeremy wheezed, slowly rolling onto his back again. ‘I’m _fine,_ James. Doesn’t matter which way I lay, it bloody hurts after a while. They offered me drugs but I’m not there yet.’

‘But, if you need them...’

Setting his jaw Jeremy looked James straight in the eye. 

‘If it gets too bad, I promise I’ll take them, but they make you spaced out and see things that aren’t there. Last time I had them I was sure I saw hamsters running under the beds. And I don’t mean tiny Brummie man-shaped ones.’

‘Okay.’ James sighed, letting go of Jeremy’s hand and leaning his forearms on the bed rail. ‘I just... well, we don’t want you laid up any longer than necessary. Might I remind you we’ve got a show to film you lazy arse?'

'And here I thought you cared!’ Jeremy cried, one hand splayed across his chest, the puppy dog/goldfish face fighting to cover a smile.

‘Of course I bloody do!’ James cried, snapping his mouth shut the instant it registered, but it was too late. 

Jeremy’s eyes went wide.

‘James, I…’

James shot to his feet, pacing around the small room pulling harshly at his hair. Why did he have to cock things up? Why did he have to go and let himself slip like that? Jeremy was always teasing him, making jokes about his homosexualist ways. A hundred times or more he had mock-flirted with him and they had laughed it off. Why couldn’t he have done that now, instead of speaking the truth and…

‘JAMES!’ 

Jeremy’s shout had him freezing to the spot. Looking up, he could see the other man had gone pale, biting his lip so hard it was going white beneath his teeth.

‘I want to ask you something, James.’ Jeremy said, taking a deep breath wringing his hands in his lap. ‘You can absolutely say no, and I _promise_ it will not change anything. We’ll still be friends and we will still keep working together. Okay?’

Shoving his hands into his front pockets to try and stop them shaking again, James nodded, unable to meet the other man's eye. This was it. This was where the truth came out and he had to see the awkward, pitying look in his best friends eyes as he was told that, while flattered, Jeremy didn't swing that way, didn't want to do _that. Not with him._

‘Good.’ Jeremy took another deep breath, which clearly wasn’t comfortable, and ploughed on.

‘When… when I get out of here, will…will you stay with me? Please? I’m, well, I’m probably going to need a bit of help for a while, and you know how bad my cooking is.’

James shrugged as he stared at the mud spatters on his shoes, a bit offended that Jeremy might think he wouldn’t say yes, that he was really that crap a friend the other man might doubt he would be there in his hour of need.

‘Course I will. You can stay at mine. I’ve got a spare room and it’s not too…’

‘No, James. I mean at mine.’ 

James looked up then, watching as Jeremy shut his eyes and swallowed, one thumb picking at the tape that held the drip in the back of his hand.

‘I have less stairs, better parking and..’ He took a deep breath then looked James straight in the eye. ‘My bed is big enough for two.’

James' knees gave out sending him stumbling back into the wall. HId face exploded with heat and his throat went painfully dry. 

‘What?’

‘Look, I know I’m not Brad Pitt or George Clooney, or whoever is supposed to be a decent catch these days, but I care about you James. I care about you a lot. Probably more than is good for either of us if I’m honest. But you’re right about me being too old. I’m too old to sod about waiting for the right moment, the perfect opportunity to tell you how I feel. Ever since you cracked your skull open on that rock in Syria, I’ve worried about losing you. One of these days one of us is going to run out of luck and it’ll be too late. I don’t want to look back and wonder what if?’

James stumbled back towards the bed, likely making his own passable impression of a goldfish as he took in the other man's words. The overbed light picked up the tracks of tears on Jeremy's cheeks and without thought James reached out, brushing them away with his thumb. Jeremy 'mmm'd', pressing his face into the hand James cupped around his jaw, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to stifle a sob. 

‘All I’m asking for is a chance, James. A chance to try, to see where things go.’

Jeremy reached up, capturing James’ wrist with long fingers, his wet grey eyes pleading as they met James' own.

‘We’ve been mates for years. We get along. Hell, we’ve even shared a bed before once or twice.’ He chuckled softly.

‘I’m not asking for just a shag, and I’m not asking you to marry me, at least not yet, but I needed to ask. While I still have the chance. I don’t want to lose you, James.’

It was the most exposed, most open Jeremy James had ever seen. Even earlier, at the track, there was something in those eyes, a wall he hid behind, only letting James see what he wanted him to see. But now? Now it was as if James had been given permission to peek inside, to see the most soft, squishy, vulnerable part of him and hold their fates in his very hand.

What would it be like, to be with his best friend? The man was a slob, his house a mess of discarded clothes, half-read books and magazines, piles of unwashed dishes in the sink. He lost his reading glasses more often than any man alive and his idea of a home-cooked meal was a frozen lump nuked to death in a microwave. Not to mention more empty wine bottles than a suburban pub.

But then images began to force themselves in at the sides, of the time they shared a bed on location, Jeremy hogging all the covers until James was forced to huddle up close for warmth enough to sleep. The way he smiled sleepily the next morning then shot out of bed to brush his teeth, so James wasn’t forced to endure his morning breath. The hundred plus times over the years they’d fallen asleep side by side on the sofa during a not quite good enough film. Both waking the next morning feeling far more refreshed than two middle-aged men had any right to be.

The way Jeremy always washed up after James had cooked, because if they’d been at a restaurant, or they’d had takeaway, he said, he would have to pay and this worked out far cheaper, even if he got dishpan hands from James’ eco washing up liquid.

He’d stayed over at Jeremy’s often enough over the course of their friendship that this wasn’t really anything new. Sure, sharing a bed pushed it into the deep and tender feelings category, but it wasn’t as if Jeremy would be in any fit state to do much more than sleep and grumble for a while with how injured he was, so if they _could_ just see how things go.

And the idea of _being_ with Jeremy wasn’t exactly a terrible one. Not if the dreams he was plagued with on so many nights were anything to go by.

Really, how hard could it _be_?

James took a deep breath, reaching down to take Jeremy’s free hand in his own.

‘You’ll have to promise to behave yourself. Until you’re fully healed. I’m not having Andy on my case because you’ve done something stupid and set yourself back, okay?’

Jeremy’s grin made James’ belly fizz, the light in his eyes bringing a smile to James’ own lips. He bent forward, pressing a chaste kiss against the older man’s lips, feeling Jeremy sag deeper into the bed, probably with relief. As he drew back, James felt a tear escape his own eyes and Jeremy lifted a callused thumb to his cheek and wiped it away.

‘All I need is you, James.’ He whispered. ‘All I need is you.’


End file.
